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  “Bet you're glad to get away on such a gorgeous day,” Deirdre said. “I could use a pastry fix right about now. Anything like that here?”

  “Not pastries, but I brought pumpkin bars, cheesecake, and muffins, all made with Pete's blue ribbon pumpkins. Also pumpkin stew.”

  I looked over at smoke bellowing out from a dozen charcoal grills lined up in a row. Pete stood over one of them. He smiled and waved to us. The air, filled with the fantastic aroma of Sheboygan bratwurst, reminded me of the zillion times my dad fried out brats for us.

  “You sure have a great guy, Marissa.” Deirdre said.

  Marissa smiled from ear to ear. “I know.”

  I looked around taking in all of the sights. “Marissa, I've never been out here. Whose farm borders on Pete's?”

  “John Stewart's.”

  “Al's brother?” I asked.

  “Yes, but he's nothing like Al. The fence over there is the start of his property. John is so strange.” Marissa shook her head. “Gives me the creeps. When we were collecting the pumpkins for the festival, some of the vines grew through the fence onto his ginseng field. I spotted a real beauty, one of the biggest I'd seen, so I climbed over the fence to get it. John, came tearing out of nowhere in his truck, screaming bloody hell that I should get off his property.”

  “Was Pete around?” I asked.

  “No, other festival workers were. I explained I was getting the pumpkin. He picked it up and hurled it over the fence and told me where to go. You wouldn't believe how fast I followed that pumpkin over the fence. The guy's nuts!”

  I frowned. “Does he ever come into the patisserie?” I asked.

  “From time to time. He isn’t a regular, thank goodness. I don’t even know if he recognized me. Well, better go and see what I can do to help Pete. See you both tonight.”

  We walked toward the music, and I saw Ted and Beth standing with Al Stewart listening to a bluegrass band. A coaster wagon brimming with pumpkins parked next to Ted.

  “The band sounds great,” I said.

  “It sure does,” Al said. “Kay, did you have any luck finding costumes for tonight?”

  “Yes. Some pretty good ones, too.”

  I looked over at Beth. “Beth, how was the movie last night?”

  “Scary! It was a double feature: Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Dawn of the Dead.” Beth put her hand on Ted's arm. “Would have been nice to have someone to hang on to.”

  Ted shrugged his shoulders. “I know. Bummer that I was called away on business,” he said in a sing-song voice. “Believe me, I would rather have gone to the movies with you.”

  “Ted, are all of those pumpkins yours?” Deirdre asked, pointing to the wagon, her eyes wide.

  “Why, yes, they are.”

  Beth draped one of Ted's arms over her shoulders. “Ted's taking them over to the pediatric unit at the hospital this afternoon to brighten up each kid's room for Halloween.”

  “Nice gesture,” Deirdre said.

  “That's our Ted. Do you know this guy has been my best friend since grade school?” Al said.

  Ted donned a modest smile. “Halloween was one of my favorite holidays when I was a kid.”

  Beth looked up at Ted, smiling. “Still is,” she said, giving him a peck on the cheek.

  “Just trying to bring some joy to the kids who won’t have the fun of trick-or-treating.”

  “Gotta love this guy,” Al said.

  “At Christmas, he dresses up as Santa, and gives each child a gift at the hospital,” Beth continued. “He's a real hero to those kids.”

  I looked over at Deirdre, raised my eyebrows, and then looked over towards Ted. “Wow, Santa Ted. I'm impressed.”

  “What can I say? Guess I'm just Mr. Wonderful, huh, Beth?” Ted snaked his arm around Beth's waist and squeezed in a playful manner.

  A couple of Ted’s friends came over. “Ted, you missed a tough football game last weekend,” one said to him.

  “Where were you?” the other asked. “We could have used your passing arm.”

  “I heard it was a disastrous game,” Ted replied. “Over in La Crosse County, rock climbing with some friends. I've discovered some great bluffs there.”

  Deirdre and I moved closer to the band. At the end of their first set, we walked over to the pumpkin patch where hundreds of pumpkins awaited us. Heavy, tangled vines sprawled in every direction.

  “Geez, Ted is almost too good to believe,” Deirdre said, looking over the pumpkins.

  “Next I thought Beth was going to tell us about how he saved a puppy from a burning building and got a key to the city from the mayor,” I said. “Do you think he might be a bit full of himself?”

  Deirdre laughed. “Could be, with Beth singing his praises all of the time.”

  “Although it is wonderful what he is doing for those children,” I said.

  We nodded in agreement and selected our pumpkins. All the while, however, I kept mulling over the good deeds of my handsome neighbor. Somehow, something seemed amiss, but I had no idea what. Here was a guy who always put business first, who thought nothing of leaving his fiancée alone, no matter when or where, and yet would not allow anything to interfere with his sense of duty when it came to those children. Maybe he was just not committed enough to Beth. It could be as simple as that. Oh, well, I had had enough of thinking about Mr. Wonderful.

  The farm was swarming with people, like bees in a hive, by the time we had loaded our pumpkins in our bike panniers.

  * * * *

  After putting my bike away in the garage, I carried the pumpkins into the kitchen just as the phone rang.

  “Hey, Mom! I'm calling about my birthday weekend.”

  “Hello, Will. How's everything going? How's your social work internship?”

  “Oh fine, lots of work. I’m calling to say I'll be sure to make it home for the fish fry at Jo’s on Friday, two weeks from now. I may be a little late, so don't leave without me.”

  “Okay. Andrew and Rose are coming on Saturday for your birthday.”

  “How about making fajitas?”

  “Sure, that's a great choice!” Those would be easy enough to make. “Are you doing anything special this weekend for Halloween?”

  “Going to the Zombie Pub Crawl tonight.”

  “The what?”

  “Zombie Pub Crawl. It's bar hopping in costumes. My friends and I are dressing up as Zombie Guns 'n' Roses!”

  “Sounds like fun. Dad and I are going to the Halloween Ball tonight.”

  “Great, Mom. I have another call on my cell. Catch you later.”

  * * * *

  Late in the afternoon, Phil called. “The instructor is keeping the classroom open for an extra hour or two, and I need to take advantage of the lab time. Why don't you go ahead, and I'll meet you at the Ball. You shouldn't have to miss out on any of the fun because of me.”

  I shook my head at hearing this. “Okay, please don't be real late Phil and please, please make sure you actually show up. We're supposed to meet Deirdre, Mike and Elizabeth at 7:30. They volunteered to greet people until then.”

  * * * *

  “Walters has been out cold since last night,” John Stewart said, jerking his head up.

  “What did Michael give him?”

  “Amo-something. Doc said there wasn’t any way Walters would have been able to see or taste it in his drink.”

  “Amobarbital?”

  “Think that’s what he said. Do you know what it does?”

  “Slows the heart way down and has a sedative effect. Walters looks like he's just sleeping.”

  “Doc was in a couple of hours ago and gave him a shot to keep him knocked out. We lucked out.” John snickered. “Wife's out of town. Nobody will miss him for a while. I don’t know why I have to be the one to stay with him all night and today.”

  “Maybe, John, because it’s your fault Walters is here. He found out about the ginseng from your farm. Why didn't you get rid of the stuff like you were supposed to? Do you
realize the trouble you've caused for everyone? Again? And what's worse is that he had the names of your past embarrassments, the researchers who looked into your ginseng.”

  John motioned toward the professor with his chin. “Don’t raise your voice with me. We don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

  “I sure as hell hope he didn't give the names to anyone else. John, you little weasel, you're always out of control. I’m not putting up with your shit anymore. Why couldn't you have tried and keep a lower profile like Al or Bill or any of us? People look up to us. We're respectable members of the community. And you...you just go around shooting your mouth off, acting like the tough guy. You disgust me!” He shook his head. “You're absolutely going to have to get rid of that ginseng this time. I like Walters. He's a good guy.”

  “I know I have to get rid of the ginseng. I know Walters is a saint…heard all this,” John said in a sarcastic voice. “Al called me this morning. What’s with this holier-than-thou attitude? Who are you to preach to me? You need to be taken down a peg or two and have a reality check. You may fool others, but stop kidding yourself, buddy!” John said the word ‘buddy’ with disdain, his face getting hotter by the second. “You aren't any different from me. Everyone will figure that out, one of these days.”

  “You'll be lucky if Al even allows you to stay in Sudbury Falls. You're a risk to all of us. You sure as hell better not be selling ‘that’ ginseng around town anymore. I've heard rumors. We're all getting tired of having to babysit you and clean up your messes. There's going to be a meeting tonight to try and figure out what we need to do with Walters.”

  John snickered. “Should be pretty easy to figure out.”

  “Wouldn’t be looking forward to that meeting if I were you. After we figure out what to do with him, we should figure out what to do with you! I’m out of here!”

  End of sampler. The Ginseng Conspiracy is available at MuseItUp Publishing and all online reputable retailers.

  For Bill

  ~ With love ~

  Acknowledgements

  I'm delighted to acknowledge and thank my son, Peter Bernhardt, the editor of Murder Under the Tree and to thank my friend, Lorenzo Martinez, who was a creative advisor. Both were indispensable and made Murder Under the Tree happen.

  Peter, thank you for your ingenious editing, your phenomenal ideas and insight.

  Lorenzo, thank you for sharing your expertise and imaginative suggestions, and for your tireless reviewing of my chapters.

  I am also blessed with an incredible support system; my fabulous family and fantastic friends for their love and ongoing moral support and for spreading the word of the Kay Driscoll mystery series. I appreciate each of you and will forever be grateful.

  I'd like to thank my readers for their support, and my publisher, Lea Schizas for giving me this opportunity.

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